ZO'OR: FINAL CONFLICT
by YAO
Summary: An alternative sequel to season 4. Absolute weirdness. A collection of stories suggested for Mature Audiences.
1. Individuality Granted

---ZO'OR: FINAL CONFLICT---  
  
a story on several instalments  
  
the usual disclaimers apply  
  
all non-EFC characters (c)2001 IAO  
  
this instalment is rated PG-13  
  
  
  
1  
  
  
  
Zo'or is my favorite character from the show EARTH: FINAL CONFLICT. My second favorite character is Da'an. I guess I'm a 'Taelon Lover' then.  
  
By being that--'a Taelon Lover'--I mean that somehow both Companions are currently living within my fantasies, and among other fantastic beings-- some alien; some native, conceived within my psyche and secluded under the veils of secrecy.  
  
Yet I will say that those Taelons have dared to enter my sacred inclosure asking for help, for a chance to redeem and save themselves. After acknowledging their request, the rightfull natives of my mind held a meeting... and one by one asked to be excused from helping them. The general reason why was an imposible to describe feeling developed after the common idea that reads ''THOSE TWO AND THEIR PEOPLE ARE A BUNCH OF LOSERS'' so it seemed that nobody wanted to be identified with the Companions.  
  
Nobody... but the-one.  
  
That 'one' that I'm refering to spends herm time traveling around. Herm fantastic chambers aboard herm ship resembles an enormous faceted gemstone, which happens to be hollow, its walls moving swiftly around its owner at the very center. Each facet shows images from realities past or in progress taken from brains around which act as emisors. This 'one' thus is aware of everything tickling herm interest, not because of the fact that et can perceive by spherical point of view, but by that spiritual grace some people have to always get hooked on traying to save--by the point of view of the majority inside me--lost causes.  
  
So this 'one' took on trying to save the Taelons from their downward spiralling into oblivion. Et played all EFC episodes et was aware of at the same time in herm fascinating chamber, and observed while submerged in herm colosal jelly tank. Et isolated the episode Epiphany as the best break Taelons could ever have to save themselves as a race after founding most Companion' tales risible, pathetic or simply cultish; each story tended to push Taelons farther into the void. Yet, contrary to all popular opinion as the-one used to be, et resolved that Zo'or should have been the one to enter last into death-stasis. Why not Da'an? The-one didn't think him capable of playing savior to anybody--Taelons or Human or Jaridians alike-- ; Da'an's tendency towars suffering and his recurring compasion was considered by the-one as a disadvantage at this time, not to mention his addiction weakness and his failure as a parental figure. So the-one decided Zo'or was going to be the-chosen.  
  
*********  
  
INDIVIDUALITY GRANTED  
  
  
  
After finishing to drain most energy from his parent, still Zo'or's menacing visage was well in touch with the dreams he was recalling, visions of his present travelling back to his miserable past. An euonian litany of contemptous phrases reminding him again. **...you were willing to let me die, Da'an... but I am hardly the monster you are... all of you...** he dared to transmit to the now deaf link of the Commonality, his thought like a dry echo no Taelon could be aware of...  
  
... **I'm free,** he suddenly realised; and yelled out some of his frustrations, blamed them on the remaining members of his race and reveled on threatening each member of his species by name... knowing they won't know, anyway they were helpless. **Yet, I have to think a solution** he thought after lowering the levels of energy to the necessary amount to sustain stasis. Death was near him also, as he thought he could foresee his life's end some hundred of years into some uncertain future, too little time to think a way out from his fate and to enjoy THIS his long time wish now found.  
  
But, alone or not, Zo'or had duties requiring attention. He entered the deserted bridge of the Mothership as the only sovereing Taelon, sealed it, and took his comand chair with the dignity of a king. Time to play Leader of the Synod again, so he openned the datastream and called for both Sandoval and Kincaid.  
  
''Zo'or,'' greeted Sandoval. ''I was just going to call you,'' he said matter of factly.  
  
''Where's Kincaid?''  
  
''The subject of my call was to tell you that Liam Kinkaid is dead.''  
  
''Dead...'' said Zo'or showing a blank face while supressing hard his blushing and thinking **...so Liam Kincaid has embraced the Void...**  
  
''Yes. It seems that he was weak due to some kind of DNA deterioration. Apparently, he didn't want to die, I found him dead after entering stasis...''  
  
''How can Liam Kincaid enter stasis when humans are forbidden to the secrets of such procedure?'' Zo'or's words were straight and fluid.  
  
''Kincaid robed the protocols that allowed him to enter stasis; but it seems that he waited too long. Right now I'm after Dr. Curzon and Renée Palmer...''  
  
''Forget them for now. Come to the Mothership at once,'' Zo'or said and closed the connection.  
  
Zo'or didn't have a real order to give Sandoval, not at that time; now he would think up something while waiting for the implant to arrive. Solitude was so comforting he probably decided to finally grant Sandoval his ''inmortality''--a place on the stasis chamber, so he could have him at his service whenever he wish to awake him during the next years. **I don't care if it can be supperflous to enjoy my uniqueness now. I waited for too long.** He took a look at himself starting with the palm of his hands down from his seating body to his platform shoes. It ocurred to him that there was no wickedness in wasting a couple of minutes of his most precious time, so he indulged in watching himself walking some steps while sitting so he could spin around on his command chair; the sensation was pleasing, so he did it again; and again, this time faster. A smile wider than a smirk bloomed on his face, and he himself was caught by surprise when he actually listened to his own voice laughing as his humanoid façade dropped.  
  
**Why is that I waited so much before enjoying mindless simplicity?** he thought really amused after unnumbered spins-arounds; he didn't notice Sandoval who stood perplexed at his childish recreation.  
  
''Zo'or,'' Sandoval decided to adress his playful master, who quickly stopped and regained his composture, ''are you alright?''  
  
''Perfectly,'' Zo'or answered with a gratified smile; ''in fact, I have never felt better.''  
  
''Yes,'' answered the implant while noticing that Zo'or's blue marks of decay had dissapeared from his human façade making his 'skin' look his healthy fairness of five years ago, ''you look fine indeed'' said Sandoval with a hint of suspicion in his voice.  
  
''Do not misjudge my sudden wellbeing, Agent Sandoval. I have made sure all the members of my kind have entered death-stasis, so I can reach resolution to this our crisis without delays or opposition. I have remained awake so I can guide humans in our next quest. That decision I have made in the best interest of both our peoples.''  
  
''So what is that you are offering me now, Zo'or?''  
  
''I offer you passage into the future, Agent Sandoval, as well as power, technology, and wealth,'' Zo'or had a hint of a smirk in his face. ''Join me and we both will rule unchalenged. My people already had complied with my wish to guide them to the future, make your people see the wisdom in working with us... use whatever means necessary.''  
  
''And what if I refuse?''  
  
Zo'or stepped out of his chair gracefully, supressing his breathing; walked towards the large window that offered a breathtaking view of the blue planet, stared for a moment at the beauty of Earth; ''you won't,'' Zo'or said without eyeing his attaché.  
  
Sandoval seemed unaltered, his mask prevaled well put, yet his mind dispatched a shiver throughout himself that made him blink once he recalled the images of his now obliterated birthplace in crude detail thanks to his CVI. ''Very well, Zo'or. So, what do you want me to do now...''  
  
Zo'or ignored his implant question for a moment, his eyes lost over the beauty of the planet in front of him. He extended his hands towards the spheric image, boths index fingers and thumbs joined together creating the figure of a circle in which to enclose the orb of Earth before his point of view. ''Agent Sandoval, I reached a decision,'' the companion graceful silhouette held that estrange but beautiful pose, while Sandoval tried to make sense of his behavior: ''for the time being I would like to remain alone and... undisturbed.''  
  
''Whatever you say, Zo'or.''  
  
Zo'or abandoned his pose to face his implant. ''You do not understand me, do you, Agent Sandoval?'' His slim body on his blue jumpsuit besides the image of Earth over the window was a picture of beauty.  
  
''I would be more useful if you explain yourself better, Zo'or.''  
  
''Yes... indeed.'' And then Zo'or called in his personal guards who flooded the bridge in seconds, arms in hand ready to dispose with their companion annoyance. ''Escort us to the stasis deck, make sure Agent Sandoval take his rightful place... there... until I need him again.''  
  
  
  
*********  
  
After two weeks, Zo'or began to get bored.  
  
Really bored.  
  
The joys of simplicity became hollow, he missed intrige, gossip, Sandoval's insolence, and even T'Than. His life was as a copy of a recorded ritual of what is a common housewife everyday. **It appears I have the need... of the Commonality.**  
  
He recalled what he did first after putting Sandoval to stasis, remembered the acute sense of paranoia suffered as he ran back to the bridge and from his command chair executed one of those control subrutines so he can keep everyone abord on line--he sent a remote command to all functioning implants ordering them to follow a specific set of work rutines, leisure time and sleep around the clock thus reducing the chance for any 'angry' volunteers to harm him. He released several gases into the artificial atmosphere of the Mothership which induced senses of relaxation among the volunteers. He walked around always with a small kind of implant disruptor device tied to his wrist as if pepper spray.  
  
His paranoia seemed unfounded from his experiences inside the body of Scott Pierce as if an uncomfortable after effect, so he was also afraid of people, afraid of revenge.  
  
He took to open his datastream often to access the world media looking for any opinion humans could have about Taelons... He found everything: from a couple of stray families demanding the return of their missing 'volunteer' relatives, and even comedy---he actually laughted at an actor trying to impersonate him before stopping after seeing some woman hit away the head of a dummy impersonator with a broomstick---; to serious analysis on the situation of the 'sleeping companions' in which common folks thought about themselves to be defense experts evaluating a miriad of posibilities on what to do with the Taelons, the Moon Base, and the Mothership... on public access TV. **You humans wish to kill me,** he thought, **yet I am sure you would had acted like me if you were the ones holding my position.**  
  
Soon after he didn't want to see anymore.  
  
Later, he started to feel a kind of emotional instability, he understood something he never couldn't if it wasn't for the present events. It seemed for him that his Taelon overpride had his root on the existence of their psychic reality, and no matter how conceited or whimsical a Taelon could be, he was never alone. Taelons used to adulate achievers a lot, and most of the flattering was done in an exquisite way via the Commonality. Great achievers usually grew proud of themselves. ...and losers... well, let say that if no one could stand your link to the Commonality they will ask you politely to go to hell using the phrase 'to the next plane' as an euphemism.  
  
So Zo'or was starting to feel lonely. He would have liked to share this newly arrived feelings he was having... as a matter of fact, he was craving to share... but there were no Companions awake, not even considered 'alive'. **Sha'bra,** Zo'or thought as he touched the depts of loneliness; and paranoia invaded his brain again, and this time he was mad at the posibility of never be able to survive this Taelon crisis. And he sensed something new around his psyche... **...guilt?...** No, he couldn't allow that to happen--to feel like an individual was becoming piercing--: he needed a Commonality substitute. NOW.  
  
...or he would get mad... or he will have to comply with the damned Taelon Imperative religion and get on the stasis bed **...sha'bra...**  
  
**NO.**  
  
He openned again the virtual panel, dialed a connection to the internet, and wandered around. He searched for --people humans chat forums taelons-- and read with incredible swifteness everything pertaining to 'friendship'... he couldn't understand such a 'hollow concept'. **How can I befriend a member of this... pityful species? They are inferior indeed: they lose their time becoming stupid, lying, flamming each other...** and then he included some euonian insults he enjoyed to say outloud and transmit them to the deaf link of the Commonality. He closed the connection not knowing what was worst: to bear his loneliness stoically or to mix himself with **...the dirt of humanity.**  
  
So, Zo'or felt a tiny amount of fatigue. He closed the connection to the web and the virtual panel; turned around his seat as if he could enjoy the view of Earth with close eyelids. He turned on the energy shower. As luminous sprinkles began to pour over him, he opened his eyes, realising that something was wrong with the energy coming out of the shower--it wasn't what he used to have.  
  
''Computer, show me a list of the energy supplements currently being used on the showers.'' Zo'or recieved a list of one item. ''Computer, where are all the other variables?''  
  
''There are no other variables.''  
  
''Access 'energysupplements'.''  
  
''The program have been removed and erased.''  
  
''On whose authority?''  
  
''Da'an.''  
  
''Sha'bra,'' said Zo'or visibly enraged. **It seems Da'an won't stop until I take to enter death stasis. ...and I don't want to go... into oblivion...** he pouted; **...at least real death would allow me to carry on on my own... but under which circunstances...?**  
  
Almost instantly, Zo'or asumed a much-frowned-upon meditative pose--- joining his hands together in a prayer fashion---: the urge to collect himself triggered a sudden need for a hint of the spiritual. A couple of euonian words hissed softly out from his mouth, his energy started flowing around his arms and shoulders, softly invading all his torso until his solid façade dropped. He wasn't 'feeding'; yet, he could somehow recall the comfort while having his energy supplements doing that sort of meditating. His face showed clear satisfaction to the empty bridge, even his mouth let escape some moaning... when suddenly something new happened to him: he flashed and sparkled. He didn't had time to stop that what he was doing, he didn't even had time to stop himself from falling into some unknown place within his conscience, he got lost in the trance inwards to the center of his inner being---where his energy shone so bright it was imposible to percieve by the usual senses; being there was as if being inside a sun...  
  
...  
  
...  
  
... ... ... ...  
  
...  
  
Zo'or opened his ice-blue eyes; they both shone as bright as the stars of his destroyed homeworld. The Mothership seemed to lose its locked position; Zo'or came out from his disturbing dream to find raw sunlight all over him.  
  
  
  
*********  
  
Good? Bad? Fair?  
  
I welcome comments and feedback.  
  
Next: Zo'or will expose his birthday memories. 


	2. Birthday

---ZO'OR: FINAL CONFLICT---  
  
a story on several instalments  
  
the usual disclaimers apply  
  
all non-EFC character (c)2001 IAO  
  
this instalment is rated PG-13  
  
  
  
2  
  
  
  
BIRTHDAY  
  
  
  
{Pain. Discomfort. Sight. Color. What.}  
  
When I was birthed there were people of science all over the place, waiting. I could see them from behind the transparent skin of my parent, Da'an, who writhed in pain over the birthing bed; his pangs rendered myself conscious, I saw moving figures between the filaments of blue and white energy light that tied me to my parent. Some of those figures came nearer, they spoke to Da'an ordering him to let go off me. ''...the child becomes the pain,'' they said in my hissed language, ''the pain will become your death...'' Only one person touched my parent, I recognized him as the one who fed me with his energy, my parent's mate; ''release the pain,'' he was saying softly to my parent while delicately caressing his bare chest with his hands, I felt his energy comforting my parent. Da'an borrowed strenght from his mate to do what was had to be done. At that moment, I didn't get to understand why Da'an was pushing me out of him, I felt panic as one by one my physical connections to him snapped off, the pressure to get me out ripped myself from him. Still on panic, I looked up and saw a light source surrounded by a wide metalic circular disk above us, I fixed my sight there to see the reflection of the lively lighted naked body of my parent lying with his limbs spreaded and his mate touching him while hissing encoragement; I was a ball of white light being pushed out, my essence-- which seemed much like iluminated liquid silicone--tried to slip back to the womb, but the last filament of energy holding me broke away as I fell into a kind of container.  
  
{Fear. Loneliness. Light. Cold. Help.}  
  
I watched the motion of mechanic arms moving over the bed to inject my parent with long needles, his heavy breathing ceased gradually. I was taken, still on that container, further away from him, to some kind of a niche; they were preparing me to enter some kind of...  
  
...'stasis'...  
  
{What. Fear. You.}  
  
I became aware of myself at that moment, my body was shifting from an amorphic ball of liquid energy to a defined Taelon baby. I was still inside that round container, screaming myself out; somebody was carrying me around- -I sensed from him the idea behind the concept 'stasis', though I didn't understand what it was to become contained, paralitic, comatose for an undetermined amount of time; I was going to be imprisoned, suspended, folded, so alone I could not notice my existence-- ...and I sensed from the one who carried me an intense bad feeling...  
  
''Shhhaa'Braaahhh!!'' the one holding me let me fall to the floor.  
  
''Mit'gai!'' said another, so loud I could ear it pounding inside of me, his reprimands to the other so clear and disturbing. ''Shiiihh'Sher'asshhh Tarahdohhh...''  
  
{Pain. Confusion.}  
  
My parent's mate ran to my aid, as he felt he was all right to touch me as I was also his offspring. I felt he was angry at the one who let me fall to the floor; his familiar hands took the broken stuff which pillowed my head away, lifted me up to comfort me.  
  
{Help. Warmth.}  
  
As he took me away from those two, one of whose displayed to the other some kind of a burn over the chest section of his exocovering: ''Shaqaravahhh,'' he said. I felt my parent's mate stop his way to the comfort I was craving for. He took my still little hand on his and looked at its palm, there was some sort of light coming out of it, that light held the properties of my original energy self, I felt it as normal as 'me', yet it caused a conmotion over all present. I felt hordes coming towards me, I felt them as trying to take something out from inside of me; my parent's mate shielded me against them, his presence too heavy upon me, dense and suffocating, he closed himself off from the ones who wanted to take me, and showed me on a hint of apparent privacy how to get in touch with Da'an---the psyche I 'knew' better, who talked to me often and pulsed elaborated lullabies on his energy current to my very core.  
  
I finally reached Da'an, I sensed him fatigued, his essence faint and moody, I had never experienced him like that before, yet I didn't care and I plunged into him as he was all I wanted, all my universe, all I loved, all my self.  
  
{Satisfaction.}  
  
Even through the presence of my parent's mate and my inmersion into Da'an, I could sense dissaproval. I chose to believe they were not happy with the results from their efforts to contain me, they fail to put me into stasis. Some of them even blame Da'an for it, he was young after all; it appears Da'an wasn't strong enough to resist the pain, his meditation exercises served him nothing, he failed to keep me unconscious, and now it was dangerously cruel to oblige me to enter stasis.  
  
I heard someone come up to my parent's mate and say ''The stasis procedure must continue'' in a polite manner; the hand who fed me blocked his way to me while I still searched for Da'an's conscious essence: ''It is too late,'' he concluded.  
  
''Are you against the desings of the Synod?''  
  
''The Synod has ruled that all birthings pertaining to the flux of current time must subdue to stasis due to the decreasing core energy factor. The energy and physical essences of the new birthed will be collected and stored in stasis thus saving our core energy reserves until we meet resolution to end this problem. The new born shall be awaken gradually, according to the demands of the Commonality...'' my parent's mate rendered as if reciting a solemn mantra. ''However, the Synod's decision was based on the natural unconsciosness of children newly birthed; our children were not supposed to be conscient of their contained fate at the time of their schism from their parents' bodies, my mate's child became aware of himself in relation to this plane of reality even before he completed his birthing stage...''  
  
''Even so,'' I listened to what Mit'gai said after recieving healing for the mild burn by another member of his cast, ''we must perform the stasis procedure on Da'an's child, as well as with all others. Da'an failed to contain his pain this time, he was so distracted in the affairs of his cast that almost forgot his duty to his species...''  
  
Mit'gai was silenced in a woosh. Some members of the Synod appeared throughout a datastream current. It was fascinating for me to see them arrive as pure forms of dancing energy lights; I was in awe staring to the beauty of their forms.  
  
{Fascination. Beauty. Them.}  
  
One of those echelons of brigthness and beauty spoke ''It is the decision of the Synod that Da'an's offspring shall be spared from stasis. Conscious birthings are rare, yet they always open ways to interesting desings. We shall guide this child so we can learn from him as a whole.''  
  
''We are humbled by the Synod's decision,'' Mit'gai said; ''we shall abide.''  
  
''We feel grateful for the Synod's wise resolution.'' As soon as those beautiful creatures of light desappeared, my parent's mate took my physical form to Da'an, putting myself over his chest: ''Here is Perfection, Da'an,'' he said softly.  
  
''...yes...'' Da'an answered with an affected whisper, ''...Splendid Perfection...''  
  
{Emotion. Desire.}  
  
My parents' body felt very good, the way in which his energy vibrated a certain kind of wave I felt from him was very pleasing. Da'an felt like home; Da'an was my home--all I needed. I laid over him staring at his inner beauty until my form streched and outgrew him; my cheeks caresing his smoothly slick transparent skin, his energy pulsing under me. I reached my hight over him, embracing him, wishing I could be inside him again...  
  
{Satisfaction. Tranquility.}  
  
I opened my eyes and saw everybody staring back at me, smiling. My mind was overwhelmed with the throbbing presence of a miriad of welcomes. The gates of the Commonality were opened wide for me. I felt a sudden rush that made me blush all over, my parent blushed simultaneusly.  
  
  
  
*********  
  
Good? Bad? Fair?  
  
Is it worth the time spent?  
  
Next: A brief meeting between The-One and Zo'or. 


	3. The Light over Zo'or as he laid Down

---ZO'OR: FINAL CONFLICT---  
  
a story on several instalments  
  
the usual disclaimers apply  
  
all non-EFC characters (c)2001 IAO  
  
this instalment is rated PG-13  
  
  
  
3  
  
THE LIGHT OVER ZO'OR AS HE LAID DOWN  
  
There will be no need for you to tell me anything about your persona, Zo'or; I know enough. And what I don't care to know I simply ignore it as if it doesn't exist to YOUR reality. Let see: who was your great-grand parent?  
  
''...''  
  
See? What that means is that I don't care about who your great-grand parent was; therefore, it does not exist, it never did.  
  
Yet, I love to sit down beside your recliner and listen to you telling me soapy stories of your life, how could we call it?: The Pathetic Rise to the Top by 'Splendid Perfection'. I never cease to be amazed by your parent choice of names for his offspring. Your parent dared to call you 'Splendid'Perfection', Zo'or, and I know you think your name to be some kind of a cruel joke, since you have believed yourself not to be 'splendid' nor a 'perfect' Companion; nevertheless, you had to give some meaning to the label your parent attached to you...  
  
...and that is the reason why you are here before me, borrowed for your brief planar state reality to another outside of that continuum you think you know, Taelon. I have chosen you.  
  
Let me explain to you how this going to work. You'd have secret desires you crave to realize, and you have responsabilities you must fulfill. Ask me about how we are going to solve the core energy crisis...  
  
''And how do you... plan to end this crisis? Do you posses the means to attain what has always eluded the advansed Taelon genius?''  
  
If by that you are meaning to ask me if I know the secret formula to core energy... damn it along with your great-grand parent. Ha ha ha ha ha. Yet I posses a reliable subtitute. You know? I really like when you smirk, your mouth forms a heart shape, even when you're out of façade. And I like your eyes, specially when you have play your leadership poorly, they move left to right and left and up and flicker, and then stay: it appears your brethen loved to hit your nerve hard. And I like your nose, it flares along with your heavy breathing. And I like the soft bumps at the back of your head... oh yeah, touch them for me... I like your hands, they are so elegant and beautiful... have you use them often?  
  
''Do not touch me.''  
  
I don't like your teeth though. What have you done to them? Perfecting the art of mascarading behind a handsome human façade? Congratulations, but I'll hold to my opinion.  
  
''My... ! How dare you to mess with my image?!''  
  
I'll tell you why I love your teeth to be crooked: you look younger, fresher, desirable. I love your body features, I love your body essence: it will do good to me. What will not be good to any of us is that you surrender to stasis--and I am glad you despise that idea--, or that you embrace the the Void as the Lover you've unconsciously sought--not to mention that death has been a lover to almost everybody, including your enemies, those that will be waiting for you to throw you into perpetual exile, there are entities there waiting for you too--... Ah, beautiful! Your eyes move around, your breathing starts, your fingers flutter... you are scared, and you shake like a dry leaf abandoned to the mercy of a soft wind, that is me. I will make you fly...  
  
''Enough of this... nonsense. What is this place? Who are you? What is your purpose?''  
  
You are in my keep, Zo'or: I am the source of your salvation. As for what do I want, let say that I want... you. Listen to this for I am going to say it just once and I want you to understand it, because if you are unable to I can well put you back on your lotus chair and forget about your pathetic station, I will abandom you to your benighted destiny as being erased from this universe you have chosen to ilegally trespass: you'll be cast into non- existence--and believe me, you will prefer that to what's been happening and will happen to your collective reality. As I said before, you wish to experience 'individuality' and, at the same time, you feel the need to resolve your people's crisis, not because you really appreciate your fellow companions but to prove yourself better than them. Ok, I will help you, I am offering you a solution... though it is not a gift. Too bad I don't have a need for gold bullion, I only accept payment on live subjects, like you. I want you.  
  
''To accept such proposal is out of the question. I won't be your slave.''  
  
Those big ears of yours are only a decoration. I didn't say anything about slavery, not in the way you have tried to slighty coerce humanity to your wishes, always lying by omition. I do not lie when I say I shall give you freedom and I might resolve your crisis--the tools I posses have resolved all obstacles I have encounter, so I take that I shall fix your problem, or this will be the first time I fail.  
  
''I said 'enough' already! Be gone!''  
  
But, about this situation, it is not your choice anymore, but mine. I will resolve if I'll take you as a payment--and believe me, I really would love to have you, as you will love to experience yourself from my insides.  
  
I will go now.  
  
And you'll return to my desing.  
  
  
  
******  
  
******  
  
******  
  
Good? Bad? Fair?  
  
...woah, at last I have an audience!!!  
  
Soon: Zo'or searchs the Mothership for a few good volunteers. 


	4. Energy Search

---ZO'OR: FINAL CONFLICT---  
  
a story on several instalments  
  
all usual disclaimers apply  
  
all non-EFC characters (c)2001 IAO  
  
this instalment is non-rated  
  
4  
  
Now I'm going to tell you the reason why I like Zo'or so dearly...  
  
I was watching a taped copy of the S1 episode named Float like a Butterfly, and it got me to think that Taelon society could be too tight and demanding as well as the Amish. I understand that, since I grew up among Christian Fundamentalists. There are reasons why people show to act under very restrictive regulations, there's a purpose behind it. I ignore why the Amish have chosen to keep living the way they do--I haven't been Amish--. I suspect the Taelons are forced to act the way they do in order to avoid extinction--the point that discipline is important in order to save life is valid. I was indoctrined to accept the way of life of a Fundamentalist because if not my soul was going to be burned or rot in hell... and my family used to loved me very much for allowing that to happen, so they forced their love into me: the weirdness of their beliefs turned to be a form of humiliation.  
  
The reasons behind Zo'or's discomfort towards his parent are obscure to me; yet, I felt so glad Zo'or got to be the Leader of the Synod--as inmature and terrible as he might be--so he could keep his parent on line, slowly dispencing the well-deserved torture Da'an was entitled to have, making him purge his wrong-doings by intense and continous suffering. (When I was young somebody told me that to be ignorant of the law wasn't enough justification in order to be relieved the from infringement sanctions or punishments. If I was supossed to accept that as reasonable, then 'love' wasn't going to be an excuse for mind rape.) Bad parenting brings forth terrible offspring, and to watch handsome Zo'or whipping Da'an with his tongue and deeds was a high in itself for me... I found myself touching his image upon the tv set with my open palm as if willing to share my mind with the alien Companion.  
  
...(alleluyah)...  
  
Yet, the-one who decided to help the Companions wandering around in my brain comes from a perfect/imperfect background. This 'one' has perfect lineage, perfect blood, perfect ascencion, perfect execution, and perfect desire; but it has imperfect motivations, imperfect lifestyle, imperfect myth, and imperfect objectives, that is, by herm people's point of view. Yet et didn't care about their opinions, doing what et used to do--serving as a full time adversary--et has gathered a wide variety of tools. Those tools have served this 'one' well in herm many quests.  
  
One of those tools happened to be a kind of jellyed plasma stuff et used to keep in thick and tightly closed meteorite-stone boxes 1 feet cubical. The main characteristics of that magma-like stuff are very versatile: it is a clean reliable energy source, that well contained could power up anything, even a dying sun. The only downfall with it was that it needed to be contained at all costs, since it was natural for it to grow by itself taking all space available--to have the worst accident with it could mean for the universe to be entirely flooded... until it burst away, since not even the-one knew if the fabric that held the universe together in place could hold it.  
  
Guess where the-one got it?  
  
Where else but in Hell?  
  
*********  
  
ENERGY SEARCH  
  
  
  
**That's the Sun.** the languid solid body of Zo'or turned around 180° from the bath of light. His graceful hands taped in a relocation order for the Mothership--back over the Moon Base--; as he sighed he was grateful Da'an didn't tamper with the navigational systems.  
  
And he returned to his usual stiff pose thinking lightly about the dream he just had... it was a dream after all: no time to lose getting paranoid over it; it must be considered, as that was the way of the Companions, not as a bad omen, but with pragmatism--the need individuals have to turn dreams into reality is, after all, the foundation of all technologies, and discipline is the basic tool in order to realize them. He thought about the sun, his head tilted in a da'anesque fashion as it was natural for him to resemble his parent, though he as lately tried to avoid to be much alike him... **The Sun produces energy...** It might not be suficient to power up everyone, and it could be incompatible, yet **I shall collect it.** It was not the answer to the core energy riddle, but it could be a substitute, **as my dream suggested.**  
  
So he needed 'volunteers'.  
  
Zo'or searched for a list of personnel currently in the Mothership... **Sha'bra.** ...there were no human scientists present on the ship--only one assistant--, and all Taelons were in Limbo; so he got to search personnel by their abilities looking for the most qualified. The list covered only three people, all of them P3 implants. ** It appears that to leave so little personnel on the ship... has become a mistake...** And even if he continued getting broadcasts and communications from Earth... **I won't open a channel to ask for help: I won't surrender myself to the inferior. Better to make them superior.** What was he thinking? It appeared like a sudden gust of conscideration for Humanity mixed with the early frenzy of a conceited youth left home-alone--the closest Zo'or could get to the idea of 'mercy' or 'compassion': **Let us find then someone to exalt.**  
  
But then, all of a sudden, there had been a malfuntion in the internal comm systems: Zo'or summoned his chosen volunteers several times, yet nobody appeared before him. **Sha'bra** he though as he recalled his parent image. But since 'perfect' people always had a back-up plan, he ordered...  
  
''Computer, open alternate backup optical. Autorization: Perfect'Eye Ohhh'Shihhhh'Wahrhrhh.''  
  
At least his complex alternate web of organic optical points worked. He was overproud of it for he had been its creator, designer and perpetual keeper of its secrets. His 'Perfect'Eye' had won the seat for him! He had had eyes all around the ship at all times, so he could see the pulsing currents of energy of all Companions in perfect detail as they debated on psychic forums. His visage became a smug masque as he recalled the time he was appointed as Leader of the Synod--he already knew he was going to succeed, it was easy after having examined the energy pulses of every posible rival, so he knew how to desing his strategy. But now, there were no Companions to watch, only humans: waking lumps of decaying flesh with primitive brains. Some at least were easy to buy or manipulate, but that was what apparently made them predictable. Yet, others... were smart indeed... he blushed with shame at his early memories of deception during that short time he got to be the American Companion--he was so sure he was going to capture Jonathan Doors... **Most humans could show superficial qualities of inferiority in their daily proceedings, but when the need arrise they can execute a variety of tasks with remarcable levels of cleverness.** He knew his lesson. He came to be the highest ranking Taelon.  
  
So he scanned for the people he was looking for... There he was: Ishikawa Hi holding his position in one of the laboratories as always, his face serene while occasionally pushing some keys on his front pad. Behind him some glass cages holding live insects, most of them praying mantites. Even though all projects involving Earth animals had been shut down or abandoned, this one was left intencionally alive, though the scientists responsible for its development where all gone. **This is strange. There must be a mistake. Praying mantites are not a priority... not for now...** As soon as Zo'or saw Ishikawa taking one jarred insect and putting it over a virtual analisis board, he waved over the datastrean to isolate his image in a corner and access another channel.  
  
  
  
Then there was Kelvin Stone, he was in some dark Mothership corridor so small nobody could stand on foot there. Zo'or couldn't understand what was his purpose sitting there, so he payed attention to his actions. Stone dressed his combat uniform, his weapon irresponsibly lying on the floor. A humanoid shadow showed Zo'or that Stone wasn't alone, he laughed at a sudden cloud of smoke coming towards him, then a limb passed him a cigarrete. Zo'or tried to adjust the volume on his surveillance unit so he could listen to what Stone and the other volunteer were talking, but to no use: it seemed these systems were all tampered, needing an energy fix or were just decaying. Yet, he didn't have to guess what they were talking about once the other volunteer showed into focus--a handsome Black man the computer identified as Thomas Anderson, whose superior was in fact Stone-- making himself comfortable under his lover's arms. The Taelon stared as the couple engaged in its kissing ritual; **...humans and their... thing I cannot get to understand... yet...** he watched as Anderson caressed Stone's chest, the volunteer face held back, eyes closed and mouth letting escape smoke and brief laughings **...they know they cannot procreate... they know their acts to be fruitless, then why...** Zo'or waved over the datastream again and isolated both lovers in a cornered data window.  
  
Zo'or train of thought was suddenly stopped as he almost jumped over his chair to the sound of high energy beats. His elegant fingers quickly lowering the volume on his spying devices as his eyes focussed to the image of Lola Martirio dressed on her sports gear dancing like crazy. Zo'or watched her movements as Lola moved her hips, the fatty flesh of her breasts trembling to the rhythm like chunks of Jell-O... her feet where actually following the fast rythym in a strange tap routine. Zo'or was amused, **nice mathematical improvisation;** but her mouth was singing out of synch over the verbal passages of the techno song, Zo'or noticed. ''Computer, isolate Dolores Martirio's voice patterns.'' Inmediatly, the computer muted every sound from the visual but Lola's voice.  
  
''El Mandamás Extraterrestre  
  
es un farifo bugarrón,  
  
el más hermoso maricón de la galaxia;  
  
le presta el culo con pasión  
  
el Sandoval  
  
que traga leche por jugar  
  
y da las gracias.  
  
Zo'or, Zo'or,  
  
no se la escondas más,  
  
quítate ya ese 'jompel',  
  
dásela a Sandoval,  
  
dásela a Sandoval...''  
  
**...perhaps I could attain understanding of this fruitless acts under the grounds of what is... individuality?** Zo'or felt strange, individuality was being like trying to walk on empty space, no ground to step upon, no loving hand to guide him. The Commonality used to be his way from all time known, the guide who lift his spirit to the superior, or so he thought. How could he not know how to describe and judge over a situation if the Commonality was always there providing him with the knowledge he needed? But now there were no Companions to lean on psychically, no sharing of feelings, knowledge or encouragement. Time to be creative then, and to believe by faith; or time to experience in order to collect the facts which with to build the truth. Now was time to choose... **I believe those behaviors to be the side-effects of the condition known as individuality... my actual condition.  
  
**...yet, I fail to understand volunteer Martirio's obsession in pairing me with Sandoval... She invents such idiotic nursery rhymes with the sole purpose of laughing herself alone to tears.... However, it seems her useless passion fills her with the energy she requires...** Like Ishikawa, who got excited over stick-like insects and praying mantites, and Stone who got it from Anderson's mouth over his manly hardness.  
  
**Is it... fascinating?** and again Zo'or made his head tilt unconsciosly, this time like an attentive puppy; unconsciosly, he extended his palm up reaching to touch the falling energy from the datastream **I shall collect energy from them too.**  
  
For the first time his usual smirk was actually a smile.  
  
*********  
  
Good? Bad? Fair?  
  
Your opinions are always welcomed.  
  
If I don't like them, well, I can always forward them to Hell.  
  
Next: Some reasons why Martirio is aboard the Mothership. 


	5. Mi Escuelita

---ZO'OR: FINAL CONFLICT---  
  
a story on several instalments  
  
all usual disclaimers apply  
  
all non-EFC characters (c)2001 IAO  
  
this instalment is rated PG-13  
  
5  
  
Lola Martirio had been always paying attention to what was happening around the starship during her duty-terms. As for this time, she noticed everybody around acting too... diligent and with great discipline--it appeared everyone was fine and in good morale, concerning the job, that is--; and it was weird, since there was always a little sense of risky camaraderie among volunteers after to what happened to volunteer Joan Price: She was intelligent, disciplined and polite, one could say she was really a Taelon admirer, she showed respect for the Companions and her job on the ship; but one day she was ordered to the bridge... and after that she disapeared. Someone saw her face accidently as she was carried away around some corridor, she seemed shuddering... she suffered some kind of implant failure as for an official explanation, one that never satisfied Lola Martirio, nor others that now suddenly came to forget about Joan Price... an even herself! ''...te lo juro por la puta madre de cristo,'' Lola always used to murmur tasteless phrases to herself with her teeth clenched, ''...algo raro estÃ¡ pasando aquÃ­, en el 'moder-foquin-chip' este...'' and continued en route to the gym for her workout.  
  
Earlier, she tried unsucessfully to greet some acquaintances around the designated off-duty human areas and no one seemed to acknowledge her greeting; strangely enough, she tried to greet everybody. Only a young volunteer of suave Asian features returned her greeting gesture coming to her.  
  
''Hey,'' Lola said, ''you have been the only person to greet me back. And I don't even know you. New transfer?''  
  
''I am Ishikawa,'' he smiled. ''I've been stationed here for the last six months.''  
  
''Really? Tell me something, have you catched this weird atmosphere around? Like, the air is thiner, and everybody is acting stiffy, and stuff?''  
  
''Talking about the weather, eh? Lots of sun light today.''  
  
''By the way, I'm Martirio. Yeah, the weather up here is quite unusual today.''  
  
''Nice to meet you, Marutirio,'' Ishikawa said in his heavy Japanese nerdy accent. ''I just got out to my shift, I haven't noticed yet.''  
  
''Well, keep your eyes open,'' Lola said as a farewell while starting to walk away from the volunteer. ''...el chinito quiele alÃ³ flito...'' murmured to herself... and bit her tongue at a starship sudden shook.  
  
***  
  
Lola danced on for 40 minutes straight, her sweat gave her a shinny slippery look. Ignorant she was being watched by somebody other than her fellow volunteers, who didn't care about what she was doing, she walked out of the gym to the showers; there she deposited her sweaty garments on an urn attached to an organic sucking pipe, ''see you later!'' she said to the machine which was going to suck her clothing clean. The Companions provided their Mothership volunteer washrooms with beautiful tall mirrors ''...que son una porquerÃ­a. Â¿QuiÃ©n carajo es quien puede verse bien en esta cosa tan oscura?...'' which happened to be too dark to show back an accurate reflection. ''...mira eso...'' A couple of female drones came by naked walking down this weird mirrored passage, their implants looked different, too ordinary large--the unnatural organic skin tissue ran from their ears down to their shoulders, encircling one breast and then down to their navels to disappear as the implant entered their belly bottons; their upper backs also showed an amount of the alien skin tissue just under the neck, right upon their vertebrae. ''Es cierto que muchas veces me pregunto quÃ© rayete hago aquÃ­ yo...'' Lola mumbled while touching her implant--it was small, soft to the touch and, to tell the truth, gave her an amount of sensual pleasure to massage its folds--; ''...y me contesto PORQUE SÃ 


	6. The Water Over Lola as she Bathed

---ZO'OR: FINAL CONFLICT---  
  
a story on several instalments  
  
all usual disclaimers apply  
  
all non-EFC characthers (c)2001 IAO  
  
this instalment is non rated  
  
6  
  
THE WATER OVER LOLA AS SHE BATHED  
  
Enough, I already heard your rendition. In fact, I've been listening to your cries for quite some time. And I am not surprised to find that you are a liar. You lie to yourself about your past. Dreaming about altering your memory? Fixing those shameful bits? That's not going to do the trick for the Companions; better get used to the idea of never touching a Taelon.You were the one who bullied people around in school: your hands are sticky with rotten mango pulp. Your stepfather was a pig who turned your mother quite mad before dying after delivering you, bastard; he was not an owner of a bar, nor used to bend irons, he was a pitiful alcoholic. And little Frankie was your favorite amusement, he was lean and shy, and you were fat and loud, you laughed at him and abused of him because... you really liked him; but you couldn't show him love, you didn't know how to. ...yet you played doctor with him... and after that you wanted to marry him. But he rejected you, he always had an attraction for boys...  
  
''I hate you. I hate you. Get off me.''  
  
For being 'Martirio', that is, you hate yourself. But you don't 'hate me'. You are fascinated by me. That is why you are always following me. Spying on me. Your Perfect-Desire to experience me calls loud in my awareness.  
  
''I don't believe in you, or in little voices; this is how I got to be aboard the Mothership: believing in me only.''  
  
Common choice of philosophy for the likes of our kind, 'Martirio'... or should I call you 'W---'? Unfortunatelly, the race you have chosen to inhabit is too dense and physically complex--not forgeting it will sucumb to entropy--to acknowledge me as 'real'. Yet, your hard work and constant search had brought you to this starship as an individual, you have won the privilege to see 'the extraterrestrials' in order to believe in some of 'the supernatural', now that it has a logical explanation.  
  
However, you made it to Earth long ago, your ship broke and started disintegrating upon touching Earth's atmosphere, you suffered a broken-core landing; you hunted humans in order to survive this ordeal--mixing your genes with those of the humans following the usual passion--killing your mates in the process: all men who have touch you as a female have died by your hand; all women who had carried your child have died after delivering it, and so you have pass on your memory blood cells to your offspring, you have been born many times, as it is the nature of our kind. Too bad it shows you need contact with our own, your genes have been so badly altered you have almost lost the ability to produce memory cells within your blood: you are becoming more human with each birth, so human you have almost forgotten the reason why you are here, on this obscure sector of the universe... ...surviving on subconscious memory schemes and dreams... you call 'fantasies'.  
  
I was wondering, do you remember Ma'el?  
  
''...''  
  
Long ago you came to meet a weird stranger by chance, you thought about him to be a woman who pretended to pass around as a man. You followed her around and spyed on her, subconsciously wishing she was me. Your plans to seduce her were a deception, your approaches were frustrated by the stranger herself. You were a man then, so jealous about this stranger obssession with women. You used to wait for her keeping vigilant, always near the entrances to all those caves and catacombs were she used to hide to perform her secret magic ceremonies among many women. You hoped night after night for her, playing fantasies on your head about ripping her hooded cloak, and discover. You wanted to possess her, to plant yourelf in her body, as she was the best candidate to carry your heritage, W---, your heritage of passion... and murder. But, frustrated upon your failures, you decided to denounce her, and she dissapeared: Humanity have rendered you dumb. He he he he.  
  
But now it looks like a promising story; you almost made it: naked under an alien shower and peeped upon. Talk to me about your fantasies with that unnamed Taelon in your brain, the dream about the big chair on which he comfortably seats before the bed where you lay tied; and he stands and approaches, plunges his lited body over yours, and it feels good the way how he melts within, slowly becoming one with you...  
  
''...what am I saying? ...this is ridiculous...''  
  
...  
  
''...I think... Taelons are trying to drug their personnel...''  
  
...  
  
''...it feels something weird have been happening on this last duty shift, and its effects on my mind has gotten me... like... stoned: it's allucinating...''  
  
Sure. You stepped in front of my probe today, you had brief communication with et. Et has transmited me about you--''a spy from the-other has temporaly taken residence on the starship, et is now possesing a human female body, et responds to the name of 'Marutirio'; it appears et has been dwelling on the planet Earth for quite some time, since et was unable to pick from my mind notice of my thoughts; et seems to have been contaminated with too much human DNA. Even if et doesn't know what was et really trying to do, herm agenda is clear at a subconscious human mental level, et cannot access it as a human but she is capable of following herm path to herm original goal''--. That goal is to reach me.  
  
''...and why... is that I need to reach you...''  
  
Because... don't you know who I am? The subjects of our kind couldn't miss my essence, why you? I guess humans are imperfect indeed: their inability to finally resolve their basic and small dilemas are the main reason why you hate them.  
  
You ended up discovering humans are not alike us: even though our physical, animical and psychic realities are one, we are individuals, but not like humans--which mental and physical realities are separated, and their DNA could be an adquired progressive disease. It is not time for me to get you in within me, I am... not sure if I would like human additives within my essence. Sorry to tell you this, but you have not won: I don't think I'll touch you... for now. You can have all the Taelons you want, that is if you think yourself strong enough to bear the suffering after rediscovering the buried memories of your glory, W---. However, Taelons are not individuals. What do you believe you can attain by joining with a Taelon?  
  
''...''  
  
Of course, I don't care. That's supposed to be your thing after all. Yet, I do care about something:  
  
Please, get clean.  
  
Get clean.  
  
Get clean.  
  
Get clean.  
  
  
  
******  
  
******  
  
******  
  
Good? Bad? Fair?  
  
Of course, I don't care: this is a labor of love, and I love to do it.  
  
Soon: To be naked in Taelon. 


	7. Naked Truth

---ZO'OR: FINAL CONFLICT---  
  
a story on several instalments  
  
all usual disclaimers apply  
  
all non-EFC characters (c)2001 IAO  
  
this instalment is rated PG-13  
  
  
  
7  
  
  
  
I was thinking about the dress code Companions observe on most Synod meetings: complete nakedness. It seemed that to be naked proved to be an aid to Taelon 'politics', imagine Synod members 'reading' energy flows while debating: probably, millenia of observation could have shown them how to identify common patterns of energy fluctuations from liars. I guess Synod members don't have a chance to lie; or perhaps they are really excellent liars: I believe that skill is perfected with time... and I don't think there have been many young Taelons as Synod members, everyone has lied at least once, the young pretend the old couldn't imagine what is already known: that is why older people lie better.  
  
The youngest Synod member in Taelon long history had been Zo'or, he had really dared to hold that position without being caught lying--for a Synod member to lie is a crime punishable by a shameful request he must have to grant: voluntary... passage to the Void. Having been the child of a Synod member, Zo'or must have had time to observe his elder's proceedings and to learn... how to conceal a lie. I imagine, for a Taelon to hide a lie must be difficult. I guess, a Taelon has to submit himself to certain meditation practices in order to control the flow of energy within himself--the same energy others are going to see--, and that takes a lot of time--it could be said that to master that technique is a requirement to be a Synod member--; it seems it could be easier to lie over the psychic link, the same way humans lie when on the internet. However, liars cannot conceal their lies from their mates; and lies are always shameful.  
  
Humans, as Zo'or once found out, are a race of liars and cheats. Having the advantage of individuality and concealing flesh, their thoughts are hidden from their eyes. Yet they don't know how to lie, thousands of liars are caugh daily: some are desperate palters, others fib just to get amused, and to some others lying is a way of living, to prevaricate and equivocate are the chosen tools of the power-corrupt. Too bad human individuals don't get to live very much so that they truly learn how to lie like pros, and that's an advantage for the Taelons...  
  
Should the Companions lie to Humans in order to convince them to help? That can be arranged to fit into simple logic: if humans are liars by nature, and they have accepted and even kneel before ancient lies 'for the betterment of society', why not? After all, it's about trying 'to save some lives here'.  
  
*********  
  
NAKED TRUTH  
  
I shall explain:  
  
The Synod does not require its subjects to be dressed while in the presence of one another; between Companions to dress is a matter of choice. We only are required to dress while on the presence of alien races' eyes whose societal codes require its subjects to dress in public.  
  
However, we were biased.  
  
We used to say: ''Ushooohhhh'Fhukhuuuhhhh''--'THE DRESSED ARE LIARS'--.  
  
***  
  
{What. What. What... Who. You!}  
  
During my early youth, I became customary to hang around naked, blushing pale and bright at each discovery, each emotion, each sudden contact with... some very polite Companions over our link. Yet, no one came to me physically but my parent, Da'an, each revolution--when the second moon was right over the first moon over the gardens of Shi'rriahhhh--: the begining of a new day in Taelon.  
  
Da'an appeared to me on the portal, the first time I saw him dressed: he had on a hooded cloak (that from some twisted human point of view could have appeared 'comely'); its heavy blue bio-fabric all embroidered with organic tendrils of iridiscent indigo scared me, as I transmited my emotions to the Commonality producing a great wave of patronicing responces. I saw Da'an blush as he gave me the eye; I couldn't tell about the truth of his emotions, as he was... dressed.  
  
{Fear. Solace.}  
  
Nearby, the naked body of another Taelon shone blushes. Da'an touched me on my back silently obliging to walk to our private place.  
  
Once there, Da'an spoke softly what I wanted to ear ''You want me... Zo'or.''  
  
''Take it off. Now.'' I only managed to greet; I was too young to be mannered, and my speaking skills weren't at all developed.  
  
So, Da'an's heavy garb hit the bioslurry floor, ''take me... my child,'' his voice warm and soothing.  
  
{Exitement!}  
  
The moment I had been waiting all day long: The presence of my parent. Da'an extended his arms, showing his palms to me; I came to him ignoring his open palms of knowledge and cuddled in his closing embrace brushing my body against his, my head resting along his. I needed his energy. And I loved him. With eyes closed, my hand searched desperately around my parent's abdominal area looking from entrance, Da'an took my nervious fluttering hand and guided it to the right location; with great care, Da'an himself introduced my fingers inside of him, the energy transfer began... as usual... ...and the pleasure, the sense of completion...  
  
{More! More! More!}  
  
''...aahhhh...'' moaned my parent, ''...Zo'or, be... gentle...'' managed to say over hard breating.  
  
But his plead went into deaf ears, my ears, I was too young to understand how and when to considerate, and sucked from my parent's life force until I was satisfied. Once I returned to my common energy current velocity and opened my eyes, I found I was kneeling on the floor; one arm held Da'an's drained body which slightly blushed, his abdomen under my other hand. I realized I went too far.  
  
{What. Need. Solution. Now.}  
  
''...Da'an...'' I called without obtaining any response; ''...Da'an...'' I called again; and then, as I was invaded by a slight guilty feeling since I believed I was the reason for his state of unconsciosness and discomfort, I took his languid transparent body in my arms and carried him to his energy shower to... 'fixhhhhhhhh' him, as he used to say.  
  
***  
  
Visitations later, I came to find Da'an twitching over the stretched chair, he had spent conciderable time resting and was still on the shower.  
  
''...Da'an...'' my hand came in contact with the energy shower which shut off trigging the mechanism that straighted up the chair. My parent sightly opened his eyes, his blushing furious. Something wrong was happening to him as I saw energy coming out of his body, the spill was coloring his chair a psychodelic spectrum shadow of yellow, green and purple. I already had tried to communicate with him using the psychic link, but failed.  
  
{Help.}  
  
The situation became... 'freaky' as I tried again to help him taking his hand and putting it over my own belly--I resolved I had to return the energy he gave me--but I couldn't find an opening. Then my hand came to brush his palm just softly, but Da'an's hand attacked me with a sudden burst of energy...! I cried out in fear, my frustrations about not knowing what to do to... 'fixhhhhhhhh' my beloved parent floded the Commonality. **...Help me!... It's Da'an!... I'm so afraid!... Help!...**  
  
The sound of the datastream starting up caught my attention; on it a member of the Synod. I stood in utter fascination at the colors of his energy pathways. ''You... are,'' I only managed to say.  
  
The Companion on the datastream greeted in the acostumed manner. ''Yes, Zo'or, I am Quo'on. The Synod has ruled T'than will resolute Da'an's Ka'atham; you will leave the premises and transport to Rhi'ha's living quarters in Sha'hama'r'athhhhh, efective now.'' Then he greeted again before cutting the transmition.  
  
I felt myself exalted: a member of the Synod delivered a message to me! I was ready to obey... when I remembered Da'an. The Synod member actually asked me to leave Da'an... alone, to abandom him; I couldn't do that: he was the one I loved... then, a voice talked direct to my insides, **Da'an is going to be fine... Zo'or; it is better for you to leave now.**  
  
{Da'an's Ka'atham. What.}  
  
**LEAVE NOW.**  
  
{Da'an's Ka'atham. What.}  
  
The organic threshold to our private place openned wide to let a stranger in. It was really a stranger since I didn't know anything about him until that day as he communicated with me to convince me to get out of my place. He was also dressed, but not cloaked; he wore a blue jumpsuit and over it a sash... around his hips. Also he was on a solid state, showing a weird skin color. I became so scared at his presence... no matter if almost every member of the Commonality came to me trying to calm me down urging me to obey, the presence of that T'than was so crushing I stayed pinned to the floor I was standing upon, unable to move.  
  
''Tell me, Zo'or, how do you spect me to believe you are... 'PERFECT' if you, apparently, are unable to follow a most simple order from the Synod?''  
  
{Confusion.}  
  
T'than's mind was really strong. I felt his words shaking the insides of me, making me dither, and stepping one foot foward instead of taking my leave.  
  
''...aaahhhh...'' we both listened to Da'an's moaning, we both turned our eyes towards him; ''...please...T'than... please come...come...'' and then he extended one open shinning palm, quivering, breathing heavely, blushing.  
  
He spoke his name. The name of the stranger... and not mine.  
  
{Da'an. Mine. Me. You. T'than. Stranger.}  
  
''Well, my... 'PERFECT' Zo'or: are you leaving...'' T'Than smirked, ''...or are you leaving?''  
  
I started walking backwards very slowly towards the door, my eyes on Da'an. I saw T'than lose his patience as he sighed showing teeth and gave me his back walking towards my parent. He jumped over the chair, sitting on my parent's legs, and violently took his hand and stroke it, and pressed it to his own. Once outside, the organic threshold shut close before me after I saw T'than activating the energy shower and the chair's mechanism so they both could be laid, one on top of the other.  
  
*********  
  
Good? Bad? Fair?  
  
...whatever...  
  
Next: Sex talk over o-sake cups. 


	8. Sukatoroji

---ZO'OR: FINAL CONFLICT---  
  
a story on several instalments  
  
the usual disclaimers apply  
  
all non-EFC characters (c)2001 IAO  
  
this instalment is very difficult to rate  
  
8  
  
Conscious lifeforms make love while conversing.  
  
*********  
  
'SUKATOROJI'  
  
Ahh, Ishikawa-San.  
  
''Go-Ichiban-Sama.''  
  
...  
  
''...''  
  
Taeron-tachi ya mushi-tachi wa?  
  
''Masaka-na. Demo, Zouru no ki to 'o-mantisu' ga... omoshiroi desu.''  
  
Mochiron da-yo. Futari wa, boku no mono da... ... ...  
  
...mou, etchi-na o-hanashi wo kikitai... hi hi hi. ...'o-manko-suru' no mono... 'Supiku'.  
  
''Taeron ways of reproducing themselves are widely known among Companions, unlike most courting rituals related to praying mantises. Yet, both can be extremly dangerous to perform.''  
  
Do they need to submit by pairs, as in humans or praying mantises?  
  
''They also need two Companions, at least one of them must be on his 'Ka'atham'--a kind of timely 'period' on which they act erratic, have shivers, thunder blushings, disturbing daydreams, and leave energy spills around just like female dogs on heat.''  
  
Yes, I can recall all your stories on bitches and dogs in the open.  
  
''The Taeron on its 'period' gets to be the baby's host. They are hermafrodite at the same time as asexual: non-ka'athamic Taerons could act like males on ka'athamic ones since this period prepares their body for the hosting of new life. When a Taeron is not on ka'atham there will be no sexual activities among them.''  
  
How long between ka'athams?  
  
''Between so-and-so years. I wonder what do they do while waiting for so long...''  
  
I can take a guess... In the beginning, those people were really raunchy, they used to call themselves 'The Atavus'. They were sexually dimorphic and, in and out of heat, they wandered around messing with other species. Until the day came they got to mess with these 'professionals' called the 'Kimera'... and boom, their species splited in two: male atavii taken by kimera females became 'Jaridians'; female atavii taken by Kimera males became 'Taelons'. And of course there were gay Kimera: those taken by them became extinct. The Jaridians have evolved to be always in heat: they even die on fire. But Taelons, while not on heat, can wonder around messing with everything but themselves: how do you think they got all their freaks growing around on the Moon Base?  
  
''It makes sense even without the explanation, Go-Ichiban-Sama, as the Taeron are dying. As for lately, they had been experiencing fruitless ka'athams. Not because they have lost the capacity to awake Perfect-Desire, but the fear they have to loose the restrains they believe to have enlighten their race. Those restrains imposed by their old ruling body have made them evolve on an path to physical extintion. Their 'spiritual path' is culprit to their core-energy disgrace.''  
  
I'll be the judge to that, Ishikawa-san. Now, tell me about the mechanics in question, you know, 'etchi-na mono'...  
  
''To create new life, both Companions meet and join two hand palms together...''  
  
...that already exists in my awareness...  
  
''...while new life is being created by the exchanging of energy, both companions share memory images between themselves, this opens up a direct link between mates at a psychic level. This act is known as 'Joining'. The exchanging of memories between companions at this level of intimacy produces pleasure responces. Both mates at a joining will review the others most private memories...''  
  
Really? Mmmm...  
  
...  
  
...  
  
...  
  
'Gomen'. ...hummm... Do Praying Mantises exchange memories as well?  
  
''No. Praying mantises are all that you know of humans, only worst.''  
  
Worst...?  
  
''Praying Mantises mating rituals are truly disturbing for us; I suspect, seldomly both mates know what's going on when mating. The female--larger in size than the male--leaves around some kind of pherormonic traces. The male is atracted to the female--which tries to attact its potential mate with its oversize thorny limbs--...''  
  
...beautiful...  
  
''...it follows the female around, and patienly waits for an opportunity to mount her. If it succeed, the mating will take minutes to hours depending on the species. But once done, the male should run for its life, for the female is going to KILL IT as the first high protein meal it will need for the healty development of the eggs it will bear later.''  
  
...hmmmm...  
  
''Sometimes, the female manage to start eating its male during its ritual, head first; no matter, the male will continue with its impregnation headless.''  
  
Headless...  
  
''The male can even manage to end the mating, get off the female and start a fight without its head, but the spirit of fate has declared female praying mantises as the winners: they will eat up the entire male before getting ready to build foamy egg nests.''  
  
Do male praying mantises experience pleasure while being killed on their life-making?  
  
''I believe they do not: pain is a basic sensation of everything living on Earth. And in their cases pain, although slow to acknowledge as real, will drown wathever memory of plesure.''  
  
Ohh, off! ...ahhhhh... aahhhhhh... ahhhhhhhhh... 'Gomennasai.' ...ahhhhhhh... But you do not experience pain... 'honto ni anata ga shoujo manga dakara!'  
  
''I live as a representation: 'yaoi no manga-jin desu'. For some, cartoon characters were conceived as non-suffering representations, unless we were created to suffer as it would be the desire of the artist. I don't acknowledge suffering, until the one who created me finds it to be necessary. Yet, I appeal to others as an instrument for pleasure.''  
  
Yes, I have known.  
  
...  
  
...  
  
...  
  
It is dangerous... for Taelons to engage in life-making because it is too much pleasure or too much pain?  
  
''Some of the images shared in the act of joining could be very disturbing making the process somehow dangerous. Happy, beautiful, orderly, respectful... memories and thoughts give them the highest pleasure; all antonyms represent extreme pain. Taeron mates have to be very strong to experience the worst images and feelings since any attemp to break a 'joining' could result in passage express to the Void... for both. Since Taeron society is psychicly open, yet tight around how companions must behave, privacy turned to be a kind of luxury--most private issues are well kept--; no Taeron knows what will find upon a sharing of this kind, somehow making many Companions mentally disturbed after a joining; so most of them had shyed away from joining substituting this activity for the search for spiritual perfection.''  
  
I see...  
  
...  
  
I will consider your earlier opinion.  
  
''Go-Synodo had to obligue Companions to engage in the joining act, even if their new born arrive so weak they could hardly survive a few centuries, or decades, or years, or months, or days, hours... even at the present certaintly that a child will be born dead it is a duty to bring it forth... against their will.''  
  
So you think they would not enjoy extreme closeness?  
  
''My opinion is based on my lurking around Taeron databanks... interesting Taeron Zouru could endure whatever... but Go-Synodo.''  
  
...  
  
''...''  
  
...  
  
''...''  
  
Wakarimashita, Ishikawa-san; arigato.  
  
''Oyasuminasai... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...anata.''  
  
******  
  
******  
  
******  
  
Good? Bad? Fair?  
  
...mae no ga 'so-ku' da-yo!  
  
Next: Da'an and T'than in love. More Taelon weirdness. 


	9. The Hand of Disgrace The Perfect'Eye

---ZO'OR: FINAL CONFLICT---  
  
a story on several instalments  
  
the usual disclaimers apply  
  
all non-EFC characters (c)2001 IAO  
  
this instalment is rated PG-13  
  
  
  
THE HAND OF DISGRACE AND THE PERFECT'EYE  
  
HAND OF DISGRACE I  
  
There's always people who grow up to be addicts, like Da'an. His Taelon conscience, which extended all around his body cells, was constantly craving for hand and womb; his addiction was physical as well as psychological. A devoted admirer of his parent, Ma'el, from which his superb erudition directly came; a child well fed day after day, his hand always bright showing traces of his parent energy signature... and now a suffering Taelon: his golden fountain of knowledge gone forever; his hands still aching at the reality of his lost parent: Ma'el had been the one he certaintly loved, and he used to remember him while caressing the center of his open palm with nostalgia.  
  
The Synod took Ma'el's decision to part away in search for more knowledge-- useful for the survival of his species--with great honour. Da'an hid his sadness behind a mask of perfect serenity, **I am so gratified Ma'el had chosen to try to resolute our growing situation so we can rectify our... mistakes.** he transmitted to the Commonality; yet, he started to appear around dressed.  
  
Although his parent was a most respected member of his cast, Da'an didn't have any real interest in science; he had a tendency to contemplate rather than to put all his collected knowledge to use. His spirit was well known among his fellow Companions over the link, he was more an entertainer than a doctor: somehow he mesmerized his people with fantastic accounts which ended up to be fictional.  
  
**Da'an,** the youth caught in the attention of some Synod member. **Why is that you always try to account for your lies?**  
  
**I am not lying.**  
  
**Is the chronicle about a lifeform which, attached to a selected limb and intertwined with the mind of its bearer, can work as a weapon... true?**  
  
Young Da'an felt all minds attentive, waiting for his answer. **No. It is not.**  
  
**Then, what is your purpose?**  
  
**I... I have a dream...** Da'an only managed to transmit; feeling so deeply ashamed, he blushed.  
  
The Synod Leader conscience departed as swift as it arrived, as well as the other Companions. Only a presence stood by Da'an, young, radiant, and waiting for audience.  
  
**Yes.** Da'an acknowledged him.  
  
**I am T'than. And I like your... dream. Please, tell me another...**  
  
***  
  
PERFECT EYE I  
  
**The Synod had issued mandatory covering on all labs... Rules are Simple: do not handle anything while naked...** Young Zo'or thought while at the same time klutzly snatching a small glass container which dropped: a mess of cobalt glass and white mucus before him.  
  
''Zo'or.'' Rho'ha came by him. He looked at Zo'or with his acostumed smug face, then looked at the floor. The substance had penetrated the bioslurry making the floor look bland. Zo'or lowered his head; Rho'ha departed from his side leaving him like this. (Scientists didn't talk very much, to talk was the specialty of the diplomats.) So he stood there head down waiting for Rhi'ha--who once used to be Da'an's mate; in essence, his parent--to arrive, in complete silence and shut to the Commonality.  
  
While wandering around his blank mind, his eyes moved to stay fixed in the mess on the floor. The bland floor appeared somehow to solidify into a kind of organic crystaline matter. He abandoned his humble position quickly rising his head and looking around table tops for an energy light magnifying sphere... and got closer. His mind stayed shut as he observed the reaction over the bioslurry, he adjusted his energy on the sphere... It appeared the substance was accepted within the bioslurry as if the organic floor could identify it as... **...a kind of... nutrient? ...poison?...**  
  
When Rhi'ha arrived, Zo'or was confidently leaning from a table beside the mess on the floor; he masked his face with energy pulses of pride and transmitted feelings of happiness to the Commonality, after all: **the Synod has given me the privilege to touch another Companion,** as this was the first occasion Zo'or had reunited himself with Da'an's mate after his first days of life... and he was allowed to touch him.  
  
Rhi'ha took an easy look of the premises; he looked back at Zo'or showing a ghost of a smile. He reached his essense-child through the link and walled both their thoughts from the rest of the Companions. He patiently waited for Zo'or to begin an explanation and an apology...  
  
**My mistake wouldn't become dangerous on me. Nor on you. However, the floor has reacted. I have come to find this discovery... interesting. I will rectify the conscequences of my actions if I am allowed to... investigate... this phenomenon.**  
  
Rhi'ha smiled at his essence-child showing a hint of pride-blushing.  
  
***  
  
HAND OF DISGRACE II  
  
Da'an and T'than's joining seemed succesful. Da'an got himself seated on the floor between T'than's legs, his back leaned towards the War Minister, as he caressed his womb focusing a great amount of his energy over the primal swirl that would become a new life. That gesture was odd, Taelon mating and nursing rituals were a lot simpler; yet, T'than carried within his essence a great deal of alien situation memories, memories Da'an enjoyed with satisfaction and abandon.  
  
''This is truly an alien idea,'' Da'an said brushing his back to T'than's smooth pulsing chest.  
  
''I am delighted at your strenght, Da'an,'' T'than responded, slowly circling his hand around his womb; ''you have experienced myself on such serenity.''  
  
''A lot of what you are... intrigues me. All those memories from a true witness.''  
  
''I got to fear your posible wish to embrace the Void...''  
  
''No. All these you have experienced, all these interactions with other species, even the will you have to sacrifice yourself for the good of our efforts--spending long periods of time far away, planning inteligent schemes against our enemies, forcing the truth out of the ones who have chosen to ally themselves with our foes--is fascinating.''  
  
''I am gratified, as I have complied to your wish to experience this... alien ritual.''  
  
''This sharing of closeness is... aahhhhh...'' Da'an blushed at a sudden amount of pleasure felt within its physical form, ''...a moment of absolute perfection...''  
  
''...Absolute'Perfection... Do I catch a child's name?''  
  
''There will be other perfect moments within you I would like to experience... by your... hand.''  
  
T'Than smiled.  
  
***  
  
PERFECT EYE II  
  
**Da'an is rendering a most high service to our people. The time has come for him again to bear new life,** Zo'or thought clearly amusing some members of the Commonality. **New life: like me,** he continued over the link... Yet, his hands were busy doing another thing: he took great care over his study of the crystalized pieces of the organic floor. He found out the name of the accidented substance--Bi'jhi'shioohhhhh, a derivate of a compound used to dehydrate matter, used to create drugs Taelon can absorb. The main component of the floor was derived from depressed Lha'sho'shahhhhh- -a highly stable amoeba like organic bubble. It was simple to remove the damaged floor, and it started to regenerate itself back quick.  
  
Zo'or had broken a piece of the damaged floor and noticed the strange kind of debris it was leaving: some long fiber filaments. What amused him the most was that they seemed to attract themselves by their ends. **And I have made a discovery: both different ends attract!** The Commonality burst into joy just listening to him over the link.  
  
''Zo'or.'' The watchful eyes of Rho'ha, Rhi'ha's assistant, came over him. ''Show me.''  
  
Zo'or waved his hands over his small mess of filaments over his working table, ''Ends attract.''  
  
Rho'ha gave him the eye up and down... turned, and walked away. Now that he wasn't special anymore, that he wasn't the youngest survival Taelon no more... better get used to be succeed, better find something productive to do. Rho'ha had secret epic fantasies he was afraid to share. Fantasies powered by ancient myths and the past that ultimately became himself: How far was him from utopia? He had to work out his dreams and reach back, not turn them into useless stories, like Zo'or's parent used to do.  
  
Yet, he knew first hand all about Zo'or, he was there the day of his conscious birth... he saw a flick of energy coming out of his hands... and then dropped. He was alive; faint, yet awake. His energy pathways were running steady, like he never had seen before. And he was conscious. **Zo'or could be 'Perfect' indeed.** he transmitted to the link as blurred irony while turning back to take a look of the young Taelon experimenting with... garbage...  
  
Rho'ha's train of thought interrupted as he listened to the sound of a fallen energy magnifier to the floor; he walked back to Zo'or. ...he clearly saw Zo'or kneeling and take back the instrument to observe the floor with gusto... Now this was odd: the way Zo'or held the magnifying sphere, he was holding it applying preasure from his fingers and not from his hand palms. Attraction energy from Taelon's open palms could fasten a variety of material substances; ''Zo'or, grhhhh'ahhhh it up,'' he suggested, but Zo'or ignored him; ''Zo'or...''  
  
**I do not recall myself asking for help, Rho'ha.** the scientist assistant sensed Zo'or inside his mind...  
  
***  
  
PERFECT EYE III  
  
**I see...** Zo'or transmited over the link... yet nobody seemed to pay him any attention.  
  
Da'an was being taken again to the birthing table. This time he was totally in control of his labor pain. T'than was at his side, solid as always, smiling his teeth out--although a weird gesture among Taelons, Da'an loved it so much--; he was proud to have been chosen to join with Da'an, his long time friend, who all of a sudden became a very important Companion--the last Taelon ever to give birth to a healty living baby--. His hand comforted Da'an over his chest, providing him with soothing waves of cool energy to warm down the pulsing heat in his womb.  
  
T'than gave Mit'gai an almost threatening fierce look, news about Mit'gai's clumsiness while handling Zo'or's birth ran swift. The healer closed himself to T'than's disturbing imagery, and got ready to collect Da'an's offspring, dead or faintly alive, and put it to stasis.  
  
Labor pangs increased as Da'an tried to break the energy tendrils which attatched the child to himself. But, suddenly, Mit'gai's look changed from cold supervision to concerned worry. ''Da'an, wait... don't...'' he only got time to say.  
  
''What?'' T'than inquired. ''Explain,'' he demanded.  
  
But it was too late, as Da'an didn't give birth to a Taelon baby, but to a long string of small energy lights which invaded the chamber with the sight of death. Da'an cried in pain as he saw his newborn--the fruit of his 'true love' for his friend--fading into the Void.  
  
Frustrated, T'than struck away the mechanic needle coming towards Da'an with a blow; he himself engage in tranquilizing Da'an focussing his energy over his agonizing mate who asked the Synod for forgiveness and another chance.  
  
**...always, Da'an... always...** Zo'or catched T'than secretly say over the link.  
  
HAND OF DISGRACE III  
  
Rho'ha came in to find Zo'or closely standing in front of a wall blushing fiersely, 'zo'orishy' holding his magnifying sphere between his eye and an undetermined spot; he was all still. ''Zo'or...''  
  
''OFF!'' he surprisingly said while Rho'ha's mind sensed his young spirit transmit **I am working.**  
  
But another presence came by, one that made Zo'or turn back to meet with its bearer, his essence-parent: **The Synod has declared you will be returned back to your parent.**  
  
**I am pleased with that decision.** Zo'or's face showed the energy pulses of aceptance, even though he didn't receive such a message directly from any Synod Member. **However, I must continue my study. I will require this...** he raised the magnifier in his hand... for Rhi'ha to see what Rho'ha had been telling him about Zo'or's hands--they didn't grhhhh'ahhh the sphere. **I also require to transport the crystalized floor and its debris with me.**  
  
''Very... well...'' Rhi'ha said, lowering his eyes to his hands, not wanting to think he was witnessing the beginning of his race disgrace... his own disgrace.  
  
EPILOGUE  
  
Zo'or arrived home to find Da'an 'deeply disturbed': Da'an appeared to him dressed in a jumpsuit garment just as T'than's, and solid. Da'an also found disturbing Zo'or's dressed arrival... though he was working on a self impulsed 'science project'.  
  
Dressed as they were, neither of them found it desirable to enjoy a much welcomed energy transfer, yet Zo'or approached his parent to put his hand over his womb pretending to caress its entrance.  
  
''My home...'' Zo'or 'whimpered' to Da'an pouting his lip, ''...taken.''  
  
Da'an welcomed his child in his embrace. ...he thought he loved him, for the Commonality to acknowledge...  
  
*********  
  
Good? Bad? Fair?  
  
...look, I assure you: this is not the end.  
  
Soon: Quotidian around the Mothership. 


	10. Quotidian Interrupted

---ZO'OR: FINAL CONFLICT---  
  
a story on several instalments  
  
the usual disclaimers apply  
  
all non-EFC characters (c)2001 IAO  
  
this instalment is unrated  
  
  
  
10  
  
And who payed Sandoval?  
  
The FBI? Zo'or? Both?  
  
Companions couldn't pay Sandoval--they believed wealth to be an abhorrence. And, how could the FBI pay Sandoval if he was always busy being Zo'or's pet? Well, all pets ought to be mantained, and Zo'or had had the means to please his doggy as the mighty master he was: now he could even give him passage into the future, as if god.. And why not, Sandoval had proven to be the best Companion Protector around: he had survived CVI deterioration and malfunctions, a mental healt crisis, accidents, attacks, his marriage, and the life of thousands of his people--dead after his master's whim. 'THE BEST SHOULD BE KEPT AT ALL COSTS'--Zo'or understood that, though his fellow Companions couldn't.  
  
Let's suppose humans are in fact an 'inferior' inteligent lifeform. And why is that? Because of the need to deal on material interests. In this case, Companions would think that advansed inteligent lifeforms base their progress on mutual cooperation looking to benefit everyone. Check this simplified Taelon Agenda: 'You Humans are sick, hungry, and massively violent; we Companions are giving you advanced healing techniques, the means to make deserts bloom, and enough entertaiment to shut off wars. We Companions are very sad some humans chose to embrace the Void before getting to know us better. In fact, you could (will) cooperate with us: our goal is to eliminate the Jaridian Threat, no matter if we have to rehabilitate them for peace... or to make them embrace the Void... or whatever comes first or both. We would require cannon fodder.'  
  
Well, too bad Communism became currently 'out' as in a fashion-magazine- term: its ideas of ultimate utopia based in cooperation without profit got suffocated between corruption, shallow privileges, and oppression. That's just one reason why the Companions cooperative scheme moved so many misfits- -inteligent people choose whatever means of resistence (or are you people dumb?). Zo'or didn't want any misfits for himself--like those pathetic folks at the Church of the Companions, or the Sisters at the Cloister (though it was nice to have Mother Superior), or any Da'anesque avatar of a sweet lie--, and he probably knew the political history of the world in general to be sure his way to approach 'the best of' humankind was the correct one: you cannot talk to a dog in a higher language expecting it to understand you, you have to motivate the dog in its language--wave some bacon around its nose. This is so easy to understand I don't know why most Taelons, in their 'superior brain', couldn't.  
  
***  
  
Zo'or stood next to Sandoval's stasis pallet, the one which was originally reserved for him. He contemplated the stretched body of his attaché, dressed in a fine blue suit, his face looked handsomely soft, his eyes closed as if peacefully sleeping; even though it wasn't his choice to undertake stasis at Zo'or's whim... he complied.  
  
**To attain de-evolution is the prime reason for us to be here, Agent Sandoval,** Zo'or confesed to the deaf link of the Commonality as if his implant could have the ability to listen to his thoughts. **Companions believed humans to be a lost-now-found link in our evolutionary ladder--so we required live subjects to experiment upon,** his elegant fingers outlined the contours of his face. Sandoval proved to be inteligent, very smart to have really deceived him once; and his body, resistant and aestethically pleasing: a fine source of genetic material.  
  
He smirked at his attaché's quiet face recalling another one of his 'science projects': **Let us mix Sandoval's genes with others from strong women to produce offspring that could be very strong and resistant so we can grow them into perfect test subjects.** He was so proud of his human farm... if not for the restrainings of the Commonality he could have made a bussines out of it, selling them as exceptional implanted soldiers--a noveau concept he got from Sandoval. A couple of months ago he personally had to choose which subjects were destined to be preserved in stasis tanks, the others would have to be terminated. He himself gave the order to destroy two dozen of perfect human kids aged 1 to 6--there wasn't enough energy to keep this proyect alive. He felt sorry to haved terminated 3 of Da'an Taelonville babies--he really liked that usefull project, though he couldn't understand why Da'an acted so irresponsably over his practical self assingments--; but he would not terminate his gene source, he'll be dead one day soon anyway. **I shall squeeze--as humans say--all your juice, Agent Sandoval.**  
  
Then he raised his head and looked around at his people in that chamber, at his parent lying on the stasis pallet next to Sandoval's, all of them lying like sleepers... he could have had fatalists thoughts, yet he didn't surrender to them. He transmitted to deaf Da'an **My opinion stands: that is why I had to order termination for all William Boone offspring. I still prefer Sandoval's...** Sandoval, Sandoval, Sandoval... his mind reeled back to Dolores Martirio's tasteless nursery rhyme, his memory reproduced Lola's voice like a mantra '...dásela a Sandoval... dásela a Sandoval... dásela a Sandoval...' his perfect recall even played back the music Lola was dancing to... Zo'or was having a dream.  
  
...  
  
While remembering techno melodies and composing daydreams over them, Zo'or's fingers caressed his implant face; then started to decend in the most graceful touch along his profile to his neck and over his tie and shirt. Zo'or walked a step to allow his hand further down to his waist, it wandered under the buttoned jacket only to be detained by a hard object yet soft to the touch; Zo'or squeezed that object and pull out to find Sandoval's Global.  
  
** To follow one's dreams--no matter how unconventional--is always fruitfull.**  
  
  
  
QUOTIDIAN INTERRUPTED  
  
After some time really alone, wandering the psychic dry link only to talk to himself... browsing Sandoval's Global... desingning an energy canister... spying on his four favorite volunteers... Zo'or realized he had become a captive to his chair, to his solitude. He couldn't know how to abandon his paranoia over losing control. He was alone; and sometimes the sense of panic over it worked as if nausea for a human. He started having panic attacks.  
  
He discovered that spying on humans calmed down his 'nausea'. **Humans are sentient after all.**  
  
While working on the computer almost non-stop he got hooked on his three sub-windows showing him how was life for Stone and Anderson... for Ishikawa... for Martirio... he witnessed shadow boxing, solo dancing, lovemaking, behavior protocol breaching, smoking, card games... he became acostumed to them, and a sense of longing invaded him as he discovered he was... shy? It could be easy to reach out to them and order them whatever his alien fancy, but that meant he was always going to be their superior, **and humans are prone to 'fear their superiors'.**  
  
Among Companions things were different, Zo'or used to think; there was not a concept of V.I.P. as all Companions were important subjects within the Commonality and to communicate with one another was always welcomed. But now it was too late to appreciate the advantages of the Commonality, as he himself was the one who chose to be extremely private. He recalled everything started when he was very young, and over an apparently non important issue--he could not grhhhh'ahhhh things up--, so anything he could achieve was always shadowed by that small detail. At that time in his early youth he didn't understand how important was for him to be able to grhhhh'ahhhh objects; later he knew...  
  
...for his everlasting shame.  
  
**I am not... 'Perfection'...** he held up Sandoval's Global the same way a human would--using fingers to pick up the object--, but to grhhhh'ahhhh an object he didn't need any help from his fingers as the object would stick to his handpalm. He tried to hold Sandoval's Global the correct way, but to no use: the global dropped to the floor. ''SHA'BRA!'' Zo'or shouted in anger at his lifetime frustration, his hands squeezed into fists, his nose flared wide along with his hard breathing. ''...I'm afraid... I'm truly destined... to be the last... of my species...'' He got surprised at a lonely tear threatening to run down his solid façade, he blushed blue once his fingers made contact with it.  
  
Then, after having using his damned fingers to clean the intrusive tear of shame, Zo'or composed himself and waved open the datastream and his perfect'eye. A blue print of his new canister appeared before him... And Ishikawa was sleeping and dreaming--Zo'or could even check on his R.E.M.--. Stone was eating in the mess hall--he had noticed he seldomly ate his rations with his lover in the same table--; Anderson was three tables away, and was joined by other hungry volunteers who quickly attacked their serving of a bland white stuff, very similar to mashed potatoes, but enhanced with secret additives their implants needed to function properly. And there was Martirio...  
  
''Martirio,'' Zo'or said as he saw her lying down under the shower, the water hitting her naked body; she seemed to have fainted. ''Computer, contact emergency personel, there has been an accident.''  
  
''Location.''  
  
''Volunteer's sanitary facilities...''  
  
''Unable to comply. There had been a malfunction in module ahhh'tahhhrghhh, level chrhhu'bihhh, sector kadhhhaehhh.''  
  
''Switch to back up comm system, and repeat the order.''  
  
''Back up comm system on line... Unable to comply, there has been an error in routing.''  
  
''...Sha'bra...'' Zo'or said along his breathing, his eyes constantly on Martirio's body--the way it was positioned allowed the water to pool besides her face in a way her mouth and nose could soon be covered--; he had to focuss his mind to find a quick solution, his eyes came to the floor to find Sandoval's Global lying there. ''Computer, show me the personnel files for Volunteers Kelvin Stone, Thomas Anderson, and Ishikawa Hi ...''  
  
...  
  
Zo'or grabed the Global from the floor and dialed a call to Stone... but his Global was off, as well as Anderson's; he saw over his datastream they were heading 'to be together again', as Anderson wasn't in the mess hall and Stone was leaving--he knew that game already: both volunteers used to take diferent routes to meet over the same spot--. They wouldn't want any calls.  
  
...  
  
Zo'or let go of his façade.  
  
He dialed Ishikawa.  
  
...  
  
***  
  
...  
  
''Marutirio is already in the infirmary,'' Ishikawa answered over a Global transmition.  
  
''Very well,'' Zo'or's energy pulses showed complacence; he cut the transmition and closed Sandoval's Global.  
  
***  
  
''How many times do I have to tell you it is nothing?'' Anderson told his superior yet walking down the corridor with some hurry.  
  
''You will keep on walking... and keep the posture...'' Stone answered back stiffly.  
  
''...don't play Sargent Paranoia on me...''  
  
Stone stopped his march. ''Anderson...'' and continued his sentence once Thomas stopped his walking too, ''do not make this an order. I will escort you to the sickbay.''  
  
Thomas looked at his boyfriend seriously in the eyes, then he looked at the palm of his left hand, there was a cigarrette burn on the root of the middle finger. Both of them knew cigarrettes were banned on the Mothership, but they thought they could get away with sharing just a couple... before engaging in their furtive lovemaking. But then there was a small accident: Kelvin let go off a lit butt over his uniform, Thomas tried to save him from a burnt hole, he succeed in finger-kick the butt away but he lost his balance and his hand came over it: their intimacy was over after Kelvin took a look on his subordinate's hand and kissed the affected part.  
  
''Go ahead.'' Kelvin said interrupting Thomas' fantasies.  
  
''Aye, sir.''  
  
***  
  
Zo'or arrived to the infirmary by portal.  
  
He entered this medical facility in his natural energy state, didn't care to follow his imposed protocol: almost three years ago, soon after being appointed as Leader of the Synod, Zo'or suggested all Companions to appear dressed and solid before humans in an effort 'not to frighten them'. Companions accepted his suggestion, later to find the Mothership invaded by humans... so Zo'or could always walk solid and dressed, his energy pathways hidden for anyone to notice the energy pulses of his secret plots and schemes.  
  
''I require some privacy, leave us...'' Zo'or anounced to a trio of medical drones raising his energy lited hand, yet his elongated sight lobes were over Martirio's covered body. He approached; his hand extended and grabed the thick pale blue blanket away--if only he could... grhhhhahhhh things with his hand he could have press it to hers and take easily from her mind... and he could know her the natural way. But, as for now, he would have to conform with the oportunity of watching her in the flesh, knowing he will never truly know her unless she's willing to share.  
  
Now Zo'or ocurred that was one of the reasons he was chosen as Leader of the Synod: he could never be near knowing an unwilling individual, let alone a Companion; yet every Companion knew it could be easy to take from him... to force him to share.  
  
Zo'or passed a scanner over Lola's still wet head; a sound showed him her implant was malfunctioning, **...sha'bra... everything is starting to die around this ship...** He neared the scanner to the tissue in her neck... there was some kind of alien bodily fluid inside of it, maybe human blood... he took a closer look... a tiny pearl of a pewter color was formed within the implant's tissue. Zo'or touched his fingers to the implant and massaged it, the pewter pearl seemed to enlarge; Lola started to wake as her sudden moaning began--something Zo'or found amusing so he continued massaging her implant--and a faint pleasure response was transmitted, a feeling which made Zo'or reach for her limp hand and obsenely contemplate it.  
  
But he let her hand go as soon as an intrusion invaded the chamber: Volunteers Anderson and Stone irrupted the scene, both noticing how weird there was no one around.  
  
''Indeed there's nobody around; I excused them.'' Zo'or said showing the energy pulses of a quick temper.  
  
The volunteers didn't expect any Taelon showing, they greeted in the accustomed manner. ''We are sorry,'' said Stone.  
  
''Are you in need of healing?''  
  
''Y... yes,'' Anderson answered, unsuspectingly showing Zo'or his injury.  
  
A quick look made Zo'or blush as if feeling nausea: for Taelons injured handpalms showed always sights of horror.  
  
*********  
  
  
  
Good? Bad? Fair?  
  
You know? I don't care.  
  
Coming next time: Taelon Porn! 


End file.
